Teach Me How To Fly
by PoppieJoy
Summary: "When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew." Santana moves next door to Brittany just in time to save the blonde from herself. But this time, her love may be too late. Again... AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so I have decided to write another multi chapter fic. I've had this idea swirling in my mind for days and days, probably even weeks, most likely months. It centres very much on a vice versa Brittana, ie Brittany is the slutty angry one and Santana is the secretly wise and nerdy one. Well. I guess she's nerdy. But you'll have to read this fic to see where I'm going with her. She's not the stereotypical glasses/freakishly clever/spelling bee nerd, put it that way. Nearly all of the glee characters will be present in this fic. I have some really lovely and fluffy chapters ahead in mind so I really hope you like it. Enjoy x**

**DISCLAIMER: I unfortunately don't own Glee. Brittana would **_**so **_**have kissed by now.**

**And one last thing, 'Diz' and 'Bows' are nicknames. As the story progresses you will see who is who. For now, let the mystery keep you amused and wanting more. **

_**Our Remedies Oft In Ourselves Do Lie**_

_Diz,_

_I'm scared. I'm so scared._

_Where are you? Why have I lost you? When will you come back to me?_

_I know you're hurting. And I know that you feel like you're falling again._

_Well, maybe you are. Maybe it's not just a feeling you have. Maybe it's actually happening and you are actually falling. Falling somewhere so very familiar yet completely unknown at the same time and all in the depths of the darkest caves imaginable._

_But I know you, Diz. I know how you are feeling right now. And I know that you feel like you can't do anything about it or that you actually can't and it's not just a feeling._

_Because it's never just feelings with you, Diz. It's always, always been something more. You feel things so much deeper than everyone else and I know you think it took me forever to work that out but it didn't. I knew the moment I first laid eyes on you._

_I knew because you were sleeping naked. Like, being in your bed was the only place you could just be You. The place where you could relax and let go of everything that you feel so deeply. I knew, Diz, and I really wish you could see that._

_And I really wish that you could see that I _still _know. I still know You. I know the real You. I always have done. And it took you so long yet hardly any time at all to let me in on all of that. On all that you are._

_You want to know why I'm scared, Diz? I'm scared because I think I might lose you. I'm scared because I know you are falling again and however hard I try and fly down beside you, I have to face the idea that I may not make it to you in time and by the time you've gone and smashed into the ground, I won't be there to catch you._

_I'm so scared of not catching you. Because I've always caught you. You've never had to worry about that. And I've always caught you because you've always let me._

_But the one time it mattered was the one time I didn't catch you. And that's because I realised I didn't need to. That's because you weren't even falling._

_You were flying._

_And I need you to learn to fly again, Diz. I know that you can do it. I know that you have the strength to fly again because I've seen you do it once before. And if you've done it before, you can do it again._

_Once upon a time, you told me that there were a lot of things you couldn't do. You couldn't write very well. You couldn't do math. You couldn't sing like Rachel Berry._

_And then you told me that you couldn't fly. That no one could fly. Flying was impossible._

_And I told you that you were wrong and you know that you were wrong. You know, Diz. Because I showed you that you were wrong. I showed you we could fly. That it was possible. And you realised that flying was better than falling._

_Because you'd been falling for too long._

_I'm scared, Diz. I'm still really, really scared._

_I need you to come back to me. I know that you don't know where you belong right now and I know you feel totally lost._

_But you need to know that I am lost with you. Wherever you are and wherever you may go, I will always be there with you. I will always get lost with you._

_Can you hear me, baby? I need you to light whatever candle you can find. I need you to shout with whatever voice you have left. I need you to raise your hands above whatever you're drowning in and I promise you I will try and reach you._

_Because I've never met anyone who was lost but didn't want to be found._

_Come back to me. Come back and find me again. Like I'm trying to find you._

_Because I won't give up. I will never give up._

_Not until you are by my side and we are flying again._

_Flying together._

_Please, baby. I don't think I can do this on my own, but I am trying. I told you there was no such thing as 'can't' so I'm going to try and prove that to you once more._

_You know where to find me. I'll always be there, waiting for you._

_I love you._

_Bows_

_P.S. "Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,"_

**I have a soft spot for starting fics off with letters but this story is one of the most close to home and **_**real**_** pieces I've ever written. If you liked it, please tell me so! Review, subscribe, favourite, PM, **_**whatever. **_**I love you all! Poppy x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi! I got thousands of story alerts and favourites for this fic and only one review but thank you so much to that one reviewer! Haha. I will still continue with this story even if it does not get much feedback because I think it is something I need to express, and if you don't write for yourself, who the hell do you write for? (!) Anyway, here's the first chapter. And, shall I say, the first **_**encounter**_**.**

**Enjoy x**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Brittana would **_**still**_** have kissed by now.**

"_**Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service."**_

_I knew it was a dream. I knew it was. _

_But still. I couldn't seem to get out of it. I couldn't run away. I couldn't speak, or scream, or shout or yell because no one would hear me and no one would care. _

_I knew that I had to run. That much was obvious. I knew I had to run away from whatever it was chasing me. _

_But my legs just wouldn't move. _

_I turned around and saw something big and black edging closer to me. It didn't look like they were walking but they were definitely moving. They were gliding. Getting bigger and bigger second by second. _

_Closer and closer and closer and closer._

_I tried to scream again but nothing came out and it was then I knew I was done for. I'd had it. _

_There was a loud clap. Or was it a bang? Maybe it was both. Either way, by the time I'd turned to check if I had blood coming out of my wrists, I was falling. Hard and fast and I knew at any moment I was going to hit the ground. _

But then Brittany crashed and woke up, breathing hard and panting even harder.

As usual, she had woken up on the floor in front of the mirror. She sat up to inspect her morning self.

Her reflection was nothing but abysmal. It disgusted her to look at it. All it did was scream _failure _over and over and over again until she had to slap the glass, stinging her hand rather than stinging the reflection.

Brittany narrowed her eyes, wanting to just disappear. Disappear into nothingness.

She felt herself itching with irritation and so she lay down flat on the bedroom floor, staring up at the cream ceiling. It still had those old glow-in-the dark stars that she'd stuck up there when she was a kid. She felt like snorting because they were liars. They didn't glow in the dark anymore. They just hung there, stuck to an innocence they could no longer fulfil.

The blonde turned away from them. Her eyes fell on her CD player. She shuffled over there, still lying on her back and scavenged through all the CD's stacked up on the few racks there were.

Brittany picked out the first CD she ever got. _The Lion King _soundtrack. She pressed play and immediately her senses were filled with those beautiful familiar bongo drums. She decided to skip to the saddest one so she could drown in her sorrows.

Brittany felt like snorting again. Because here she was, lying on this old cream carpet, staring at the ceiling with the lying stars stuck on it and the feeling of being totally numb to absolutely everything. She was such a fucking cliché.

She hated being a cliché. She hated being like everybody else.

All she needed now was some ice cream, the world's biggest chocolate bar, a fucking sad movie and a girlfriend to gossip with. A friend who was willing enough to sit with her on her bed and cry about her broken heart, offering Brittany fucking pathetic advice which she all too hungrily laps up because she has absolutely nothing else to hold on to in her pathetic life.

Brittany sighed and closed her eyes. She had no friends like that.

Well. Maybe she did. Quinn was okay. But she would never comfort her if she cried. She'd just think Brittany was pathetic. Sad. Lonely. A freak.

And Puck was a guy, so he would never be able to help.

But anyway. She wouldn't be crying because she couldn't. And even if she could, it wouldn't be because of a broken heart.

Brittany had never had her heart broken because she'd never put herself in the position to have it broken.

She decided to stand up and drag herself down to breakfast. Glancing at the clock, she realised it was already way past midday.

This was a poor life she was leading right now. She knew that graduation had only been about two weeks ago and it was summer and she should be relaxing but she was always so damn worried about what she was going to do next. She thought she was going to follow Kurt to New York and attend Julliard on a dance scholarship but she'd spent the last year directly under the nose of her over reactive mother because she wasn't "safe" to be let out alone and therefore missed the application date. Her step father hadn't really been too worried. He just wanted Brittany to help out around the house more. Or get the hell out and work in some god awful boring job somewhere in the city.

But Brittany wasn't like that. She just wanted to dance. But even that was proving difficult these days.

So this was her year out. Her year to sort herself out and find out exactly what it is she wants to do next. She didn't even know how she was meant to find this out because she had nothing planned for this year, so really, she was just gonna bum around at home and get into more shit with her parents.

She found some old sweatpants on the floor and pulled them on before padding down the stairs to the kitchen.

It was quiet downstairs. It always was. Brittany doesn't remember the last time she came down for breakfast to the busy working family she once knew.

When she went to McKinley, her family would always be up, changed and downstairs by 7:15 am on the dot. Brittany would be in her cheer uniform. Her twin sister, Jade, would be wearing her usual appropriate attire; full length jeans and her Math Team sweater. Her younger sister, India, would dress in those petite summer dresses _all_ the time and her younger brother, Milo, would be in his shirt and tie, ready for Catholic School. They would all eat together and mostly it was eggs on toast which one of the sisters would cook for everyone. Brittany's mother, Helen, would stress about being late every single second and her step father, Bill, would always be down a little later than everyone else to get in the car and head off to work.

And that's the way she liked it. No awkward questions. No tense silence. No being ready to pounce at any given second through fear of doing or saying something wrong.

Just her mom and her three siblings.

But now all of that had changed.

Jade was at Harvard. India was in her senior year. Milo was now in Elementary. Helen was walking dogs. And Bill was jobless.

That's why, when Brittany walked into the kitchen of the home she'd lived in for nine years, there was silence.

India and Milo were already at school, her mom was already out walking everyone else's dogs and Bill was upstairs in his office, job searching.

Always job searching and always at home with Brittany.

Just the way she _hated _it.

The silence was deafening and Brittany hated it. She hated the sound of silence. To her, silence was the sound of death. The sound of failure. The sound of darkness and disappointment. Everything that she was.

And she hated it.

She poured herself a bowl of lucky charms and took it back upstairs with her. Her music was still playing but it was a more upbeat song now. She felt herself rolling her eyes before sloppily falling into the window seat that looked out to the next door neighbour's front yard.

A new family was moving in today. The removal van was already parked outside and huge burly men were already heaving box after box through the front door.

Brittany decided to count how many boxes they lifted.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_Four, five, six._

_Seven._

_Eight._

_Nine, ten, eleven, twelve._

_Thirteen._

_Fourteen._

_Fifteen._

_Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty..._

She felt herself getting dizzy as usual and she hadn't even finished her cereal. She hadn't even looked at the boxes anyways. Just sat there, staring through the glass that seemed thicker than it actually was.

A large red car pulled up outside the house, followed by a smaller black one. Both looked very posh and _extremely_ well kept.

_Great, _Brittany thought. _Fucking royalty is moving next door._

She watched as a tall man got out of the driver's seat in the red car, stretching his back and admiring the neighbourhood. He had very olive skin, almost black, and his hair was the darkest shade of brown Brittany had ever seen. When he opened his mouth to greet the removal men, his teeth practically blinded the blonde they were so white.

Out of the passenger door came a middle sized woman, who also had dark hair and olive skin. But she was rather big-built and had the most massive chest Brittany ever had the pleasure of seeing. The woman smiled at the man as he came to join her. He put his arm around her shoulder and both of them admired the house.

Beside their car, the passenger door to the smaller and smarter looking black car opened. A tiny little girl, no older than five, hopped out and onto the sidewalk, her long brunette hair tied in pigtails. She was wearing what looked to be her pyjamas and ran straight up to the older dark man, who swung her into his arms and onto his shoulders.

Then the driver's door opened and that's the moment when Brittany is certain her life changed entirely. It wasn't hard for her to pinpoint this moment. This was it and it would always be it.

First, she saw the tall black boots that were so shiny, Brittany could most definitely see her reflection and the rest of the world's in them. Then came the exceptionally tanned and toned legs that though short, seemed to go on forever. Purple material then came into view afterwards, revealing an incredibly skin tight dress and then the girl fully stepped out, her long, wavy raven hair bouncing beneath her shoulders and down her back as she closed the car door with so much grace, it was impossible to think she was even real.

She had a light pink ribbon tied in her hair and a leather jacket covering her upper body. She walked casually over to the older couple and the younger girl and joined them in admiring their new house.

Brittany didn't want to seem nosy, so she quickly gulped down her lucky charms and fled with the bowl down the stairs and into the kitchen, throwing it in the sink loudly.

She climbed the stairs slowly, as if the family would see her from there. When she reached her room again, she crept to the window and saw that they had already gone inside and Brittany breathed a sigh of relief.

Her cell went off then from where it was hiding under her pillow. She quickly retrieved it and read the text from Quinn.

**Puck and I are going to Sugar's pool party today. You best be coming or I'll kick your fine ass.**

She snorted. Quinn had a thing for her ass.

**Remember who you're talking to, Fabray. Come pick me up in your sexy little car in ten.**

She quickly scavenged in her closet for her pink bikini and denim hot pants before grabbing her phone and a tank top off the floor.

Brittany didn't even bother telling Bill she was leaving. She never did. And he would always get so angry when she came home but she still didn't do it.

She didn't know why.

Her phone went off and this time it was Sam seeing if he would see her there. A moment later she got another text from Rory asking exactly the same thing. She grinned at her phone. She liked when she got these kinds of texts. Especially from the guys. It made her feel good. Pretty. Wanted.

As she waited outside, her phone started ringing.

"Hello?"

"It's me," A gruff, masculine voice grunted the other side of the line.

"Oh, hey," Brittany greeted casually.

"You better be staying late tonight,"

"Of course, what else would I be doing?" Brittany laughed casually.

"Good. We can use Sugar's mom's bathroom again."

Brittany bit her lip and held her breath. "_Or, _we could just use the hot tub. More chance of getting caught, means more adrenaline, right?"

"Whatever, sexy. As long as I get to fuck you tonight, I'm good."

"Me too," Brittany replied, spotting Quinn's little yellow car make its way down the street. "I'm on my way now."

The voice on the other end snickered. "See you later, pretty girl."

She slapped her phone into her short pocket and walked down the yard to meet Quinn. Puck was sat in the backseat, tapping away on his phone. Quinn was dressed in her usual baby blue bikini and pink hot pants. Her hair still had the remainders of the pink dye she'd used at the end of senior year when she and Brittany had decided to go a little crazy one night after Azimo's house party. Her mom had freaked but both of them could not contain their laughter for anything.

"Fabray," Brittany acknowledged, nodding her head and swinging the door open. "Puckerman,"

"Dude!" Puck exclaimed from the back, leaning forward to drop a kiss on Brittany's cheek. The blonde smiled.

"Please tell me you're not gonna run home at like ten thirty tonight, Peirce?" Quinn groaned as she turned the car around.

"Please," Brittany smirked, looking out of the window. "I don't give a shit what curfew I have."

"That's my girl!" Puck chuckled, whilst Quinn grinned, turning up the music.

Brittany couldn't help herself as they drove past the house next door. She couldn't see the new family but what she did notice was the collection of vases that lined the porch and all along the front windows of the house.

All Brittany could think about as they drove off was _what the fuck? Why so many vases?_

...

Santana heaved the last box of her possessions into her room before collapsing on the floor with a massive huff. Her chest heaved up and down and the sides of her face had never felt hotter. She blew away a stray piece of hair that had stuck to her forehead.

"Ugh,"

"You alright there, _carino_?" Her mama, Eva, asked as she walked past Santana's new room.

"It's tiring driving so long that early in the morning and then having to lift all these boxes up the stairs and into my room which happens to be the one right at the back of the house." Santana moaned, sitting up onto her elbows.

"I'm sorry about that, baby girl." The older woman apologized, walking into the room and helping Santana up. "But you know I need the front bedroom for work."

"I know, Mama." Santana replied softly, kissing the woman's cheek and wrapping her arms around her. "I don't mind, really. It's actually kind of cute."

They both examined the smaller room at the back of the house. The walls were cream and the storage seemed to take up nearly all of the space but Santana really didn't mind. As long as she had a place to stay.

"I'm going to make us some lunch if you'd like some?" Eva offered, tucking Santana's hair behind her ear before playfully pulling on the bowed ribbon in her hair. "Savannah's starving."

"When is she not?" Santana chuckled, stretching out her back and groaning. "But so am I, so as long as it's your freshly fried pancakes and strawberries, I'll totally be downstairs in a minute."

Eva laughed affectionately. "So like your Papa."

When the older Latina had ventured down the stairs, Santana took a moment to walk around her room. Or rather step. It wasn't really big enough to walk.

She had two big windows. One looked out to the back yard whilst the other looked to the next door house. It was about two metres away from another window and Santana couldn't help but let curiosity take over.

All she could see through her next door neighbour's window was a red cushioned window seat and a mirror. Everything else was cream and red and so she guessed it was a girl's room.

_Maybe Savannah can make a new little friend. Give her the childhood I never had._

She shook her head softly before padding down to the little girl's new room. Inside, it was spacious, with only one window at the front, looking over the front yard. Savannah was sat cross-legged in the middle of the room, her Barbie's splayed all around her as she spoke to them.

"So when we go exploring this new place you all have to stick together and not leave each other's sides." The small brunette kid scolded the blonde dolls in front of her. "Are you all listening to me? It's very important that you do."

Santana laughed to herself.

"I'm sure they heard, munchkin."

Savannah looked up and frowned at the older Latina. "I have to be very clear, otherwise they forget and then trouble happens and what if I might _lose_ one? That would be dreadful."

"I know, I know," Santana chuckled. "Are you coming down for some pancakes?"

Savannah's eyes widened before she sprang up from when she was sat and bolted past Santana down the stairs, screaming "PANCAAAAAAAKES!"

Santana chuckled again, looking around the younger girl's room and wondering how long it was going to take them to unpack every single box into this smaller house.

"Mija!" Her mama called up the stairs. "Savannah's eating all these pancakes and I'm not making you anymore so you best come down here and get your share before Gobble Mouth scoffs them all!"

Santana smiled happily. "I'll be down soon, Mama!"

Her mama always made breakfast. Every morning, Santana would walk downstairs and breakfast would be out and placed spotlessly on the table. Her papa would have bacon and banana sandwiches, her mama would blend herself a smoothie and she and Savannah would share the tallest tower of strawberry pancakes you could ever imagine. The radio was always switched on and her mama would put it on the same station that played what her papa had lovingly dubbed, 'The Daisy Chain Tunes'. She'd always get Savannah her glass of milk and they'd stick two straws in there so they could share it. Back in Arizona, her mama had knocked down part of the kitchen wall to insert a window so there was more sunlight when she cooked. But here, in Ohio, there were already four windows and the sun shone through all of them.

That's what it was like in Santana's house every single morning and that's what she absolutely adored about it. It was familiar and she never wanted it to go away.

When she entered the kitchen, she couldn't help but smile. Her papa was reading the Lima newspaper, leaning against the side counter with bacon and banana splayed all across his mouth. Her mama was just sitting down on an overturned cardboard box with her smoothie in hand and Savannah was leaning back in one of the chairs the removal men had already brought in, holding her stomach and groaning.

"What's up, munchkin?" Santana teased, ruffling her hair as she sat down. "Eaten too many pancakes?"

Savannah just groaned in response before whispering, "I think seven pancakes is an awful lot for little old me,"

Santana snorted. "Too right,"

The brunette's papa, Bernados, or Bernie as everyone liked to call him, lifted his eyes off the newspaper and looked over at Santana. "Are we going to start on the studio today, Simba?"

Santana smiled. "That sounds perfect, papa."

Her father had always called her Simba ever since she could remember. He said it was because she reminded him of the little lion; brave, kind-hearted and feisty. Santana had always loved the feisty part.

"What about me, m-"

"Pass me your plate, Savannah." Eva ordered, leaning over Santana. "And you're going to help me with the vases."

"But you don't trust me with the vases,"

Eva smirked before piling some pancakes on a plate for Santana. "Today I do."

Santana smiled gratefully at the pancakes her mother offered her and settled down to sit cross legged on the floor. She ate her pancakes slowly, savouring every last bit of their goodness. She was going to have to work up the energy to help move all her papa's paintings into the studio at the back of the house. She didn't mind, really. She liked seeing them again and choosing which ones to hang up.

"I'll meet you out back, Simba, okay?" Her papa put his coffee mug down before kissing Santana's nodding head and retreating out the door.

"Mama?" She spoke as she stood up. "I'll take Savannah to the park later on; give you and papa some space, okay?"

Eva nodded and dropped the rest of the dirty dishes in the sink to wash. "Okay, sweetie. Remember that I love you."

Santana giggled and sang back as she walked to her papa's studio. "I love you more!"

Brittany was pushed against the side of the Sugar's mom's bedroom for what seemed like the millionth time that night.

She'd lost count after Rory had left.

Her hair was still damp from the pool and probably the sweat that seemed to be licking its way through her blonde curls. Every touch, every moan and every grunt eliciting from the guy's mouth seemed to make her heart pump faster. It made her want to work harder. Want to help him get his release quicker.

She'd had a good day. Sort of. Puck had got both her and Quinn a beer from the cooler when they'd arrived and they'd settled into the easy going socialising that seemed to be happening. As the day had progressed, they had got more and more tipsy and then more and more drunk to the point where Brittany couldn't actually remember if she'd even had a drink or not.

The guy's seemed to take advantage of that.

Matt Rutherford had picked up on it straight away, circling his arm around her naked waist and leading her to the drying room at the side of Sugar's house. As soon as he'd closed the door, he'd taken Brittany's drink from her and smashed his lips to hers, instantly slamming his palms to her breasts and roughly pounding them. It had been over in the space of three minutes and Matt hadn't even bothered to walk out with her.

Brittany didn't mind though. She never minded. It made her feel like she'd done something good. She'd given someone something that they desperately wanted – _needed _– and her job for the day was done.

She never felt wanted or needed at home.

She never felt wanted or needed anywhere else.

Not until she was in the clutches of some hormonal, high-on-testosterone, 17-year-old boy.

And that was fine by her. That was _always _fine by her.

After Matt had been Azimio. He _always_ fucked her. Wherever they were. Once he'd done it right in the middle of the cinema, another time under the bleachers at school when people were eating above them. They both liked the adrenaline rush it gave them. It was adventurous and Brittany was in desperate need of that. Adventure.

This time had been in Sugar's younger brother's tree house. They'd climbed the ladder both knowing what they were going to do and even though Brittany, tipsy at this point, had had to stifle a laugh at Azimio's gigantic frame trying not to break the ladder, the sex had been okay. They hadn't made a sound as they'd become very good at that. Brittany liked to call it silent sex. Sometimes it was better silent.

As soon as she'd descended the ladder, Sam Evans had approached her and offered her another drink. However when she started toppling over, he caught her and led her to one of the chairs by the pool. Then she'd ended up giving him head in the pool house because Sam always said he didn't want to push it with her. He'd offered getting Brittany off but she'd bit her lip seductively and told him to wait for next time.

That had shut him up.

The next person to want Brittany's experience was Rory Flanagan. He'd only been in Lima a couple of months but already, Finn Hudson, Quinn's beastly (in every aspect of the word) boyfriend had befriended him and told him all about the blonde dancer. Brittany had merely obliged because she felt good giving some innocent kid some pride, status and respect.

And soon enough, near the end of the night, Rory was downing beers with Puck, Matt and Azimio in Sugar's kitchen. It made Brittany feel better.

The last person to start ripping her clothes off was the one person who she did this with sober. She wouldn't care if he picked her up in the middle of the night after a row with her step father. She didn't care that it was his doorstep she always ended up on when she climbed out her bedroom window after being grounded. She wasn't bothered that most of the time, she called him for a fuck when she was angry and in desperate need of release.

He would always come for her. And in more ways than one.

"Move your leg, sexy," He grunted, shoving her harder against the wall.

Brittany did as she was told. They hadn't made it to the hot tub because Finn had jacked everywhere after the tip of his tongue barely touched that of Fabray's.

Brittany snorted just thinking about it, her head lolling on the guy's shoulder. She could feel him pumping inside her and her heartbeat trying to keep up.

When she felt him reach his peak she raked her hand through his hair and breathed hot air into his ear. She knew he liked that.

The guy stepped back and let Brittany sort herself out before taking her hand and guiding it to his now weakened crotch. He then put his other hand in between her legs and groped. Hard.

"All mine, sexy." He commanded through gritted teeth.

Brittany bit her lip not really aware of anything going on. "All yours, Karofsky."

And with that, he left the bathroom and Brittany was alone. She washed her hands under the sink, not really being able to tell which tap was hot or cold. When she'd stumbled back down the stairs, Puck swerved beside her and hoisted her onto his hip like a baby.

"Puckerman, what the fuck?" She slurred, flopping her head onto his shoulder.

"Somebody needs to get home, I'd say right about now." He told her, pulling her legs so they wrapped tightly around him. He didn't seem to struggle under her weight. She wasn't very heavy. Even drunk.

"Besides," Puck continued, squeezing around her waist affectionately. He was good to her. He knew about her step father. "Quinn kinda wants to make herself unknown after what Hudson pulled tonight."

Brittany snorted again. "So funny,"

Puck laughed at her slurred giggle before hoisting her onto his lap higher. "Let's go,"

When they arrived back at Brittany's house, Puck gave her a kiss on the cheek and told her to sleep well. Quinn kept her eyes in front of her as she wished her a good night, her pale cheeks remaining the crimson colour she'd been wearing since, what Puck had now dubbed, The Finncident.

She sobered up on the way home, sat in the back on Puck's lap, him stroking her hair. He was kind to her. More like her family than any of her siblings. Or parents for that matter.

Step, of course.

"Text me when you're in bed, Peirce." Puck said before gently closing the car door.

Brittany watched them drive off and didn't turn around until Quinn's banana yellow car had turned the corner and was completely out of sight. She thought about going through the door but after glancing quickly at the early morning time, she decided it best to climb the oak tree by her bedroom window so as not to wake her step father.

She had climbed this oak tree ever since she was five years old. She and Puck used to climb on each other's shoulders just to reach the first branch and go from there. They would sit at the top of the tree for hours, watching the clouds and throwing a baseball back and forth between one another. And then Brittany's daddy, Johnny, would come and join them, lifting their giggling bodies down to take them inside for tea.

But then everything changed and instead of her daddy up there it was Quinn. Quinn Fabray, who wouldn't wear the long jeans that Brittany and Puck wore. Quinn Fabray, who refused to hold a baseball in her hands without wearing gloves. Quinn Fabray, who had to sit on Puck's back to climb the tree or else she couldn't make it.

Quinn Fabray, who Brittany had based her entire childhood on after _daddy_. After those careless summer days that forever stay painfully golden in the blonde's mind.

It was about time Brittany fended for herself. Puck was too kind to her. Ever since... Ever since what _happened_, he hasn't stopped defending and protecting her every move. And same with Quinn. Even though she wasn't around as long and even though she treats Brittany like a frenemy, they're best friends and Quinn always has her back.

Most of the time anyway.

The window made a deafening screech as Brittany pulled it up. She stepped skilfully inside to her bedroom and the first place she walked to was her mirror.

She looked at herself. She barely recognised who she had become. Her hair was mangled from pool water and sweat and the bikini she'd been wearing was ripped.

_When did that happen?_

Her mascara was smudged and her skin was pale from all the alcohol she'd consumed. This was how most of her nights ended up. She'd always look like this. But that's how she guessed she was supposed to look because she was good at nothing else in this anticlimactic life.

Taking one last glance at herself in the faithful mirror, she slowly walked to her bathroom to prepare for bed.

...

The sound of the screeching window broke Santana's trance as she cross legged on her bed, underneath her duvet like a tent, torch in hand, reading _As You Like It_.

She'd loved Shakespeare ever since Tina had shown her the modern film version of _Romeo and Juliet_. Then Santana had expressed so much love for it that Tina had surprised her with a trip to the theatre to see _Othello_. After that, the Latina had been hooked, always searching for new productions coming to town and rare vintage collections of the scripts online and in backstreet bookshops.

She doesn't know exactly what it was that made her so enthralled with Shakespeare. She knew her fascination and dedication towards him stemmed from his words and the language he used but she doesn't know what it was that drew her to him in the first place.

Obviously Tina showed her the film and when they were younger, made her sit under trees for hours and hours simply reciting Shakespeare's greatest sonnets to her... but she still can't put her finger on the reason. The _thing _that made her see the beauty in everything that he wrote.

Perhaps it was Tina drumming it into her every second of her childhood. Perhaps it was the way Claire Danes had captured her heart in the film or maybe it was even the fact her papa had a painting of Shakespeare in his studio.

Whatever it was, she was thankful for her love of him. He was the only man besides her papa who she would ever truly love.

She sat still for a minute or two, frown upon her gentle face, wondering what on earth someone was doing opening windows at this time of night.

Or morning she should say.

Santana had never been a great sleeper. Not before everything had changed either. She'd just never been able to fall into the land of dreams so easily like everybody else. She found it difficult.

When she was younger, she had always been certain that people haunted her dreams. They would start off okay, once she'd finally drifted off. There would be princes and princesses, kings and queens, unicorns and stallions and they would all migrate to one place which was typically always a meadow filled with daisies and dandelions and peonies. Flowers everywhere. Rainbows would paint the sky with their magic and their trust. The clouds, if any, would be cute and fluffy, perfectly proportioned in the pale blue canvas. The grass would always be the greenest Santana had ever seen and every single rose bush that she passed would whisper gentle words of happiness in the wind, making the young Latina smile the biggest smile the world had ever seen.

She'd had these types of dreams for as long as she could remember. And the people that haunted them weren't scary. Or if they were, Santana just knew she wasn't afraid of them. They would come, dressed all in black, with no faces, and take her hand. They would lead her to this waterfall where the water sparkled and the mountains glittered under the thousands of rays the sun was pouring over them. She'd felt so incredibly safe there.

And Tina would always be there. Even when it rained in her dreams. Even when it thundered, and lightening struck down metres in front of her. Even when the rain would turn into ice and the coldness would snap at her back like nails into her skin.

Tina would always be there. She'd be one of the people in black cloaks and then her face would appear and Santana's heart would start racing and then she'd always wake up in a heavy sweat.

But she was pretty sure it wasn't sweated through fear.

But then Tina had left and Santana had never felt more alone in her entire life.

Santana shook her head and pulled her duvet off of her. She didn't want to be thinking about Tina. That was enough for one night.

She stepped off her bed and headed to her curtain, shifting it slightly to get a better look at the window next door. It had definitely been opened.

The room was empty, bar several loose clothes scattered around the cream floor that hadn't been there earlier. Santana could hear a tap run and then stop and a door to the right of the mirror suddenly opened and an incredibly tall blonde girl walked out.

Santana couldn't help but blush and want to turn away but just as she did, the other girl saw her.

They stared at one another for what seemed to be forever.

The blonde was wearing nothing but pink and black stripy panties, a small hand towel covering her chest area from where the girl had left the bathroom rubbing her face. She bit her lip, obviously amused, before smiling wider than Santana thought a smile could possibly go.

The Latina felt herself smile back and watched as the blonde turned around, dropped the hand towel to the floor and climbed into her unmade bed to the left, switching off the lamp as she did so.

Santana pinched her lips together. She hadn't even thought about what she was going to do if the next door neighbour was her age and gorgeous.

Especially that last part. Gorgeous.

Santana was in for it now. She knew she was. She knew that whatever happened from this moment on, that girl next door – the tall, leggy, beautiful blonde girl – was 100% going to be the death of her.

Absolutely and completely, 100%.

**I hope you liked their first meeting. Please rate and review, it really does mean the world. Tell me you are reading this fic in any way that you want! Much love, Poppy x**


	3. Chapter 3

**So this is chapter two. I cannot tell you how many favourites and story alerts I have been receiving for this story, so thank you so much... But you guys are quiet! Leave me a review so I know where you think this story is going. This is Brittany and Santana's second encounter. It's a little more developed than the last but by no means more meaningful. Everything to do with these two is meaningful, right? Right. Enjoy x**

**Disclaimer: Glee is not mine. Brittana would have made out in every scene of the show by now.**

"_**In thy face I see honour, truth and loyalty."**_

_There it was again. That black shadowy thing that always moves closer and closer to me._

_I tried to run. Again. But every time I told myself to lift a leg and move it forwards, it would do the total opposite and move backwards._

_Backwards, backwards, backwards, towards the shadowing thing._

_It was a person. It was definitely a person._

_I screamed. I actually did it this time. I heard it. I felt it. Loud and clear, echoing through the darkness I was surrounded by._

_I wanted to scream, "Get me out!" _

_But all I heard was this muffled, yet spine-chilling screech. It sounded like I was choking. Like I was being strangled. But there was no one behind me doing that and I definitely wasn't doing it to myself._

_That's when I heard it. The bang, or the clap, I can never tell. _

_And on instinct, I shot a look towards my wrist and expected to see the blood pouring out._

_Then I fell and all I heard was a loud voice telling me I was falling. _

_Falling, falling, falling._

_Until I crashed._

Brittany had managed to wake up in front of the mirror again. She was pretty sure it was her fucking scary dreams that were making her move in the night. That, or she was sleep walking. And she completely doubted the latter because she'd slept the night with plenty of guys and they'd never said a thing.

Then again, they were always passed out, so they would never know anyway. But Puck had never said anything and neither had Quinn.

But again... she hadn't had either of them to stay for years.

She shook her head and lifted herself to her elbows, closing her eyes knowingly at the throbbing pain she expected on such mornings. Looking at the floor and at herself, she realised she was going to have to do some cleaning up.

She prayed silently that Bill hadn't already come in and seen her state. He didn't tend to enter her room but sometimes he would catch her out.

If Bill had come in and already seen the mess, there would be two possible outcomes. Either he'd have left her, smirking that she'd gone and done exactly what she _always_ did, bad night or not. Or he'd have already woke her up with his yelling, demanding she clean up the carpet even though he knew from her past experiences that it was almost impossible.

It wasn't though, to Brittany. She'd had nearly three years of practice in clearing this type of mess up and getting the stains out of the carpet. Everyone said it was impossible to get out but you just had to know what stuff to use.

And Brittany knew all too well.

She realised she was naked, so she quickly stretched out on her floor to grab the ruined tank top she had been wearing the night before and shoved it on. Her legs were ruined, so she stumbled into her bathroom to clean up and pull on some sweatpants.

When she walked back out, she grabbed a CD off her shelf – _S Club fucking 7 _– and turned it on quietly to get ready to clean. She had everything she needed, so she shoved some gloves on and began scrubbing her carpet furiously. She knew you had to put a lot of effort in. It didn't work otherwise.

She was panting as she scrubbed. Her cheeks had turned red and her hair had separated in threaded clumps, the knuckles on her hands going red raw from the carpet friction.

This was the price she had to pay for her fucking worthlessness.

She collapsed on the floor when she was done, placing her arms above her head. It never smelt. Just looked horrible.

After catching her breath, she lifted herself to her feet once more and stored everything she'd used back in her hideaway cupboard at the back of her bathroom.

As she stepped out, glancing once more at the mirror, she looked out her window to the next door neighbour's house again. After everything she drank last night, the only thing she could remember was the raven-haired pint-sized girl next door, stood at her window under the pale light of the moon, dressed in nothing but a black t-shirt with the name of some gothic band on it and a pair of white panties. Brittany had seen the look on the girl's face and had smiled. She _had_ been naked after all.

She was about to turn away when the girl came into view. She had just come out the shower, so her long black hair was stuck to her extremely defined and tanned back. She had a single white towel wrapped around her torso and Brittany frowned at why she suddenly felt like her stomach was doing flips.

_What the fuck?_

The girl turned around, hairbrush in hand and began combing through the dark curls. Her eyes lifted and the blonde remembered how dark they had been from the night before. They noticed each other looking and both smiled shyly.

This time, Brittany wasn't under the influence of alcohol.

The brunette seemed to pause her brushing and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Brittany decided it wasn't a suggestive action. It was simply through bashfulness, probably because she was in her towel. So Brittany smiled. Again. But this time, she made it more genuine and friendly.

But the brunette still didn't release her grip on her lip and it was only when the blonde's phone went off that she remembered what she must look like.

_Fuck. _

Grimacing a sort of apology, she scrambled to her phone, leaving the lip-biting brunette in her wake.

"What the fuck do you want?" She practically hissed into the phone.

"Peirce, dude, it's me." The male voice said. "Puckerman,"

Brittany relaxed a little. "Puckerman, hey."

"You didn't text me last night, dude." Puck's usually cocky voice suddenly went all soft and caring like it usually did with Brittany.

"Shit, sorry, I just totally crashed out as soon as I stepped into my bedroom." She smacked a hand to her pale forehead.

"More like climbed in," Puck joked, giggling to himself down the line. Brittany was not amused. "Did he hear you?"

Brittany tensed and moved her legs off the bed to walk to the window again. "I'm not entirely sure. I haven't seen him this morning, so I don't know what mood he's in. But if he did hear me and he has seen me this morning, he's being fucking sly about it."

She heard Puck breathe down the line. "Do you look like crap?"

"Worse,"

"Britt..."

"Fuck, Puckerman, it happens in my sleep, I can't fucking stop it." She snapped, spotting her new next door neighbour pulling the zip up on her jeans.

"Yeah but still, it doesn't make it any more acceptable. You need help."

"You know, you're starting to sound like my father." Brittany argued softly. "And don't even think about saying at least one of us does because we don't. We don't sound like my father. He was far better than that. Besides, you know how I feel about him."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. But please, this is-"

"And I do _not _need help, Puck!" Brittany interrupted, his last comment catching up with her. She turned her attention away from the brunette as she fixed her bra properly and sat down in her window seat.

"Brittany!" Puck almost yelled. "All I'm saying is that I think you need to tell someone."

"Tell them what Puck? Tell them that I woke up in this state because I fucking went out last night and got trashed and slept with too many guys to remember and whilst I sleep, _this_ happens?" Brittany ranted, leaning her head against the window. "No fucking way."

"Brittany, stop." Puck said, gently. "I'm sorry I ever brought it up; I'm just worried about you."

Brittany chanced a look in the tanned girl's room once more but found that she was no longer there. It made her stomach drop and she suddenly felt disappointed.

_What the fuck, Peirce, pull your shit together._

"Well maybe if you're so worried, you should forbid me to come out. Just like he does." She mumbled the last part, picking at an invisible crack in her window.

"Brittany," Puck warned. "Stop it. I love it when you come out and I'm not about to stop you drinking and sleeping with a shit load of guys because I do it too." He paused, realising what he just said. "Except, with chicks."

The blonde couldn't help but laugh. "Puck, you do it with everyone. Let's face it."

"Peirce, that is so _not_ fair!" He argued, breathing heavily down the phone. "I am not Quinn fucking Fabgay!"

This time, Brittany really laughed. "I don't know why she doesn't come out already. I'd fucking love to get my mack on with her."

"Really, Britt?" Puck's voice was hopeful.

"Why, Puckerman... what do you have in mind?"

"Oh, you know, her, you, me, all in one bed..."

There was silence.

"Oh gross, dude!" Brittany grimaced, crinkling her nose. She saw the brunette had returned to her bedroom and they caught each other's eyes. This time, the brunette smiled slightly. Brittany smiled bashfully back. Her window was open and the other girl could probably hear everything she was saying. "Puckerman, I can't believe you would suggest such a thing, you're like my brother!"

"Hey, give me a break, I'm a _guy_. Guy's do stuff like that."

"Do you really not think that would be gross?" Brittany queried, running her long fingers down the glass panes. "I mean, I think I'd physically throw up if you ever touched me in that kind of way 'cause God knows I could not even think about touching you."

Puck chuckled into the phone. "That is so depressing."

"It's not depressing, it's just the truth."

"Yeah, well the truth sucks."

"Doesn't it always?"

"Look, Britt," Puck changed the subject. "I have to go meet Lauren down the gym, so I'll speak later okay?"

"Now that _is_ gross," Brittany gagged, rubbing her tired eyes with her burned hands. "But sure, whatever."

"Love you, Peirce."

"Love you too, Puckerman."

She hung up and automatically turned to check out her neighbour's room. The brunette was fixing a bow in her hair that was now dry. She was wearing a pair of skinny jeans with a light pink tank top and Brittany couldn't help but glance at her ass.

She snickered to herself, thinking of what Quinn would be like if she was here right now.

At the thought of the girl, Brittany received a text from her.

**Pierce. I have no fucking clothes. Maisy came into my room last night and took basically everything back to California with her. Frannie is home at the moment and helped fucking Olivia pick an outfit out from what was left in my hijacked closet. Have NOTHING. I'm crashing your place in five.**

_Fucking hell, Quinn._

The moment the blonde stepped through Brittany's door, the moment Brittany wished she'd just told Quinn to fuck off.

She charged into the room, instantly heading for the closet and yanking it open angrily. But before she even reached the first hanger, she turned to Brittany, nose in the air and said, "Why the fuck does it smell of vodka and cleaning detergent in here?"

Brittany blushed, dropped her head and then whispered. "Just grab whatever the hell you want and get lost, Quinn."

Quinn frowned, knowing she'd hit a weak spot. "What the hell, Brittany? Do you want to poison yourself like this?" The smaller blonde reached for Brittany's arm caringly. "Did you drink when you got home last night?"

"Like I'd have fucking vodka if I did, Quinn!" Brittany suddenly snapped.

Quinn knew that was her cue to shut the hell up. She nodded curtly, before turning her attention back to the closet. Brittany watched as the young girl dragged out most of her dresses and skirts before closing the doors and huffing at the pile on the floor.

Brittany stared blankly at Quinn, not even bothering to bend down and help her pick them up. Quinn didn't move either. She still had one dress in her hands. A dress Brittany had not worn since her aunt's wedding. It was knee-length and pink and she'd hated every stitch of it.

Quinn looked like she wanted to murder it too.

"Maybe we should just go shopping?" She said so quietly, Brittany barely heard her.

"Why? That dress is exactly the kind of thing you always wear." The taller blonde queried, pressing her hands to her hips. She was still in her grubby tank top and panties.

Quinn shrugged and blushed. "Maybe I don't wanna wear this kind of stuff anymore..."

Brittany smirked. "Is Quinn Fabgay embracing the gay?"

"Oh cut it out, Pierce." Quinn hissed, throwing the dress to the floor. "And so what if I am, you all knew anyway."

Brittany raised her eyebrows and clapped loudly. "It's about time, Fabgay!"

Quinn scowled at her. "Okay, firstly, I am not happy with that nickname, so whilst I'm out and proud in your unfortunate presence, I will _not _be complying to that god awful pet name you and Puck seem to think is so genius and marvellous, and secondly, you're all just jealous because I will get _way_ more action than you now that I'll be dressing more like who I am."

Brittany's smile instantly faded. "While its awesome just thinking about all the hats and the baggy jeans you're gonna be wearing, I really can't agree that you will get more action than Puck and me. Please," She raised her hands in the air to motion herself. "I can sleep with a record number of guys in one night, you will not beat me."

"This is not a competition, Brittany." Quinn scolded, kicking about the clothes on the floor. "And even if it was, I would still win because there are so many curious girls out there."

"...Who are straight."

"...Who are curious."

Brittany sighed. "Whatever, Fabray. As long as you still look hot, everything will be rainbows and unicorns."

"Fuck off, Pierce."

"I just fucking complimented you!" Brittany walked over to the window seat and crashed down in a huff, finding her eyes drifting to the brunette's room. She was sat on her bed reading something. She couldn't tell what it was but it looked ancient. And the girl looked seriously into it. Like, she was scribbling notes down the side of it and sticking memo pads all over the pages. Brittany frowned, amused.

The brunette then dropped the book to the side and stretched out fully on her back. A moment later, a younger version of her charged in the room and jumped onto her tummy. They both laughed and Brittany couldn't help but smile at their happiness.

"Who the hell is that?" Quinn interrupted her thoughts, coming up to stand beside Brittany.

"No idea, they moved in yesterday."

Quinn leant closer to the window and lifted it further. "She's hot, Britt."

Brittany didn't answer. She just kept staring at the two girls interacting with one another.

"Have you spoken to her?" Quinn asked, leaning back and wiping her hands on her skirt.

"No."

"Liar."

"Fuck off, Quinn, I haven't."

Quinn didn't say anything. After a while, they both decided to pack up all the clothes the smaller blonde had thrown everywhere and go to the mall.

Operation Fabgay, Brittany called it.

Quinn, to say the least, was _not_ amused.

...

Santana stared at the page in front of her having absolutely no idea what to write. It wasn't like she had nothing to say. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It was just... she wasn't exactly sure how to start.

She'd tried so many times to get the words out that she wanted to and release all the things that she needed to tell. But it was so hard to figure out how to start something that she was never going to send anyway.

She started with the obvious.

_Dear Tina..._

Now what?

She twiddled her pen between her left fore finger and her thumb, staring at the page and hoping it would just magically write some words of its own.

_I miss you._

Wasn't that obvious?

_I miss you every day. I miss you whenever I see a rainbow in the sky. I miss you whenever I hear a _Black Tainted Garden _song. I miss you whenever I look at Savannah. But most of all I miss you when I even think about _Othello_. I can't even look at that play without wanting to rip it up and throw it across my room._

_And I haven't been angry in so long. _

_Everyone keeps telling me it's been a while now. Long enough for me to stop missing you. But the truth is, Ivy, I can't. I can never stop missing you. How can I when you made me such a better person than I was intended to be?_

_I don't even know where you are now. I don't even know if you're anywhere at all. I have nothing to go on and it is all my fault._

_I feel so guilty, Ivy. So guilty. Everything that happened that night was all due to my recklessness and if only I could go back in time and not make you follow me because now you've left and I have no way of contacting you._

_We're in Ohio now, in this town called Lima. It's lovely, really. It's not Phoenix and that's all I'm really grateful for right now. There is this huge park, which Savannah adores and the garden, although smaller than our last place, is so cute and pretty. Mama's decorated it with the fairy lights Papa got her for Christmas and they hang above the grass and the little pond like a constant starry night. _

_Mama and Papa are busy converting the garage into her workshop. She's already taken over one of the bedrooms for her bridal carnations so God only knows the house is going to stink like a blooming garden, no pun intended. _

_And Papa's shot gunned the back room of the house for all his artwork. Seriously, Tina, he doesn't need any more! He keeps going to these auctions and has even discovered the craze that is online auctioning and now our house is filled with so many paintings, we could pass off as a museum. He did actually purchase a beautiful piece the other day. It's called _Summer's Perfection_ and its of a corn field, with a little girl climbing one of the hay bales. Papa says it looks like a little me but I'm convinced it's more of a Savannah._

_I'm still Mama's delivery and order girl. She says she's got a few lined up for next week – people who have been on her website who live all around Lima. I just have to drive in this new van she's just got and take all these flowers to all these lucky people. She says most of them are anniversaries. _

_I know this is never going to get to you but I need a place to write all of this down._

_One again, I'm so sorry, Tina._

_All my love,_

_Santana - a.k.a Mrs Shakespeare_

_P.S. To the Savannah we'll run._

She put her pen down, unsure whether she should have made it longer or shorter. She guessed it didn't matter. She was never going to send it anyway.

There was no where to send it.

She reached over for her copy of _As You Like It_, and opened it to the page she was at before. She shouldn't burden herself with these letters anymore and the worry of where Tina actually is. It was all in the past and now, there was nothing she could ever do about it.

She smirked at the line she'd highlighted a moment ago.

"_Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak." _

Tina had been ten when she'd scolded Santana with this line. They had been sat outside in her tree house and the young Asian kid had been plotting her next move on Tommy Peters who lived next door. She had sat there, mapping out on a piece of paper exactly what she was going to do and say to him, simultaneously speaking it out loud.

If Santana had been old enough to understand, she wouldn't have got so angry, but at the time she simply thought she was jealous. Which she was, but she told Tina that it was her speaking that was annoying. That's why Tina had quoted the line and made Santana scowl.

The Latina knows now it was nothing to do with Tina speaking her thoughts.

"Santana!"

She was woken from her reverie by the sound of her Mama's shrill voice calling up the stairs.

"Yeah, Ma?"

"I'm going into Lima to get some groceries. Fancy helping me out so we can cook together tonight?"

Santana smiled, immediately lifting herself away from her bed and down the stairs. She unhooked a yellow cardigan from behind the front door and joined her Mama in their car.

"How about we make _Alb_o_ndigas_?" Eva suggested, putting the car into drive and backing out of their new home.

"Sounds perfect, Mama." Santana replied, buckling her seatbelt and glancing out of the window. "What are Papa and Savannah doing today?"

"He's taking her to the pawn shop in the hopes of finding another painting." Eva shook her head, amused. "Your Papa does _not _need anymore but this morning, he insists and insists and then Savannah walks in explaining that she's bored and that you're too engrossed in your 'Shaky' as she calls it, so what can she do?" Eva giggled a little and turned the corner out of their neighbourhood. "So your Papa told her he'll take her to wonderland, forgetting to mention that this so called wonderland involves ancient paintings and furniture that nobody else wants."

Santana smiled affectionately and placed her hand on top of her Mama's. "Ma, the pawn shop will be good for her. Plus, it's not that awful. It kind of is like a wonderland if you think about it. Everything there has been around longer than us and all of the things have stories to tell. Think of the history, Mama."

"Mija, you have far too wise a head on those young shoulders of yours." Eva commented. "I worry sometimes."

"Mother!" Santana exclaimed, turning to look at her. "Other people complain about their kids being badass drug addicts or drunken sluts, _not_ intelligence."

"Nerdiness."

"Mama, that's not even a word."

"Is too."

"Is not!" Santana sighed, raking a hand through her hair, fixing the bow. "Besides, I'm not a nerd. I'm really not. I just enjoy the originality in life." She shrugged, emphasising her point. "To indulge in something so creative and so _witty_ is my purest form of happiness."

Eva smirked at her daughter, turning to steal a glance in her direction. Santana caught her smug expression and bit her lip, trying to fight off a persistent grin.

"Mama!" She complained, hiding her head in her hands and turning her head away.

Eva giggled. "You are such a nerd, Santana."

"Go away," Santana mumbled, refusing to take her hands away from her face.

"Mija, I'm kidding," Eva chuckled, poking her daughter in the ribs. "Look at me,"

Santana didn't budge.

"Mija, look at me," Eva ordered, her tone turning a little more serious. Santana peaked from behind her fingers. Eva held a lopsided grin. "It doesn't matter that you're a nerd. If it makes you happy, who am I to take that away from you? It's your purest form of happiness, like you said."

Santana pinched her lips together and finally took her hands away from her face. "Amongst other things," She said softly.

"Yeah," Eva whispered knowingly. "Amongst other things,"

Santana smiled tightly, before turning to look out of her window once more. Lima was nothing special. Not like Phoenix was. However much she hated that place now, it always seemed to be a little bit magic. Every corner you turned, it felt like a cowboy would just gallop around it and in every crack that you encountered, you could almost hear the whispers of the fairies as they sang the song of morning, enchanting you to take one more step towards the city.

Here, in Lima, it wasn't like that. There were no thunderous hoof prints. No giggling fairies. Nothing.

Maybe it was better this way. And if it wasn't, maybe Santana could go out and find the magic herself.

They swerved into the car park of the grocery store and slid skilfully into a perfect space.

Once inside, Santana began checking things off her Mama's list and helping her pile their trolley with stuff for Savannah.

"Remember she likes marshmallows," Santana reminded her Mama, shoving several packets into the trolley. "Oh, and these,"

"Santana, you are going to kill her with all this junk!" Eva reprimanded, removing some of the candy.

"Ma, she can't live off fruit and plantain for the rest of her life. She needs to have a little fun."

"Oh, I'm not going to argue with you." Eva sighed, moving on. "When will the world get through to you kids these days? All you ever eat is candy and ice cream, hamburgers and fries, chips and chocolate. Junk, junk, junk, all the-"

"Okay, Mama, I think I get it now, no need to complain."

"Well, Santana, this is important." Eva continued, finally stopping at the checkout to empty out their cart. "You are a beautiful girl, I can't have you getting all fat and zitty over this."

"Mama, I think you are overreacting just a little bit." Santana retorted calmly, placing a hand on Eva's back and helping her unload. "I'm too busy to get fat anyways."

Eva smiled. "I know, Mija. Hey, have you seen our next door neighbours yet?" The older Latina, finished unloading and looked at her daughter. "Your Papa says he and Savannah saw the lady walking through the park with about five or more dogs this morning."

Santana shook her head. "I haven't met any of them, no. Well, I mean, she has a daughter but I only know that because our bedrooms are practically making out."

Eva giggled at Santana's wit. "A daughter, eh?"

Santana didn't mean to blush. But she always did when her Mama asked her about this kinda stuff.

"Santana, baby girl," Eva laughed, moving forward in the queue whilst the boy behind the counter beeped their food off. "How old is she?"

"I was about to say, Mama, she could have been seven."

"Savannah would like her then,"

Santana giggled. "No, Mama, she's about my age I think."

"Yeah?"

Santana snickered at Eva's nosiness. "She's tall, I think. Blonde, pretty, smiley..."

Eva suddenly let out a loud laugh just as the checkout boy told her the amount to pay. Santana laughed with her and handed thirty dollars to Eva who thanked her, still shaking her head.

"Maybe we should ask this woman and her daughter for dinner sometime, right Santana?" Eva continued to chuckle, retrieving her card and starting to pack their purchases into a bag.

"Mama, let's not play matchmaker here."

"Mija, it's been four years already."

Santana frowned. "Ma, I dated that girl you set me up with about two months ago."

"Honey, you know what I mean. I know you've dated a couple girls here and there since... well, since four years ago. But you need to start thinking seriously." Eva said, lifting the two bags and walking to their car.

Santana frowned again. "Mama, I'm like twenty, I don't need to get serious yet."

"Santana, I don't mean like _that_." Eva stressed, unlocking the car. "I don't want you to jump head first into a serious relationship and completely fall in love, telling me this girl is the one you want to marry and the one you want to live the rest of your life with. I mean, if that happened, then great. But it's not what I'm asking of you right now."

Santana continued to frown. "Then what are you asking of me?"

Eva opened the car door and both of them jumped in. "I mean that you need to stop meeting these girls you date and telling them straight away that you're not interested. You need to give these girls a chance. You barely spend two hours with them before you shoot them down and walk home alone. It's not healthy, honey."

Santana looked down and exhaled. She didn't want to have this conversation. As much as she loved her Mama and as much as she would understand and not judge, she couldn't talk to her about why she did that. About why she shot girls down straight away.

Because she didn't want to face the answer either.

"Maybe you should date a few guys, see if that's where you're going wr-"

"Mama!" Santana practically growled, causing Eva to break suddenly. They both flew forward dramatically. Santana sat back up and glared at her Mama. "There is no way in _hell_ that I am going back to dating men, _not _after what happened!"

Eva breathed in deeply before sending Santana an apologetic smile and driving on again. "I'm sorry, Mija."

Santana tried to control her breathing, hating that her anger was returning.

_Stop_, she told herself.

"I'm sorry too."

They stayed in silence for the rest of the car journey until they reached the house. Santana was still angry. She felt as if her Mama had just opened up a wound that she'd only just managed to close and the only thing that was ever able to heal it was no longer here.

She slammed the car door shut, not even bothering to help Eva with the shopping. She yanked the front door open, all the while trying to calm herself down, constantly telling herself it wasn't worth getting like this. She left her mama's calls of desperation in her wake, storming up the stairs and slamming the door to her bedroom shut.

Once she reached her closet, she pulled it open and rummaged carelessly for the box she hadn't looked in since it had happened. When she found it, she ripped it open, recklessly searching for the one play that she knew would cease her anger.

But even as she looked at the front cover and traced the _O_ of the first letter of the title, she knew it would only make her worse. So before she pulled the play apart, she shoved it back in the box and slammed the closet door shut.

Leaning back on the door, she shut her eyes and let the tears fall. She hated when this happened. It happened so much and she'd never be able to stop it. They would just keep on falling and it was times like these that she never wished so much to be able to fly again. Fly, like Tina had taught her. Fly, like they used to when they re-enacted the _Romeo and Juliet_ balcony scene. Fly, like they had when they heard the fairies whispering in the cracks of Phoenix city.

Fly, fly, fly.

_Fly away_, Santana thought.

She closed her eyes tighter and waited for the tears to stop. She wasn't sure how long she sat there for, crying, but the next thing she knew was Savannah walking into her room and curling her little arms and legs around Santana's torso, whispering that she was going to be all better because she was going to kiss the pain better with her magic lips.

...

"Fabray, are we finally done yet?" Brittany complained, dragging behind the smaller blonde as they trudged through the mall. "It's like, nearly six and I kind of wanna get my drink on already."

"Peirce, I haven't got _nearly _enough to substitute for what I lost when World War Sisters bombarded into my room." Quinn snapped, continuing to march forwards in a very un-lady-like fashion.

Brittany smirked. "You know, you look kinda hot when you stomp like that. You should stomp more often; it brings out the gay in you."

Quinn stopped abruptly and slammed into Brittany's front. "Fuck, Brittany!" She practically screeched, causing several passers-by to glance at the two blonde girls. "Do you mind?"

"Do I mind what?" Brittany asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Fuck you, Peirce."

Quinn marched off again so Brittany had to jog a little to catch up.

"Quinn, what the fuck, girl?"

The blonde didn't answer. Instead, she led Brittany into a late night bar where she fell into a booth and promptly collapsed on the table.

"Quinn?"

No answer.

"Quinn?"

Still no answer.

"Fucking hell, Quinn!"

"Jesus, what Brittany?"

Brittany sat back, a little surprised and coughed her shock. "What are we doing?"

"You said you wanted to get your drink on." Quinn replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Here?"

"Yes, here, do you see anywhere else selling the level of alcohol you so obviously need?" Quinn scowled at her before burying her face in the table again.

Brittany cocked an eyebrow, confused. They weren't legal to drink here, what the hell was Quinn thinking? And what did she mean by _level_ of alcohol needed?

"You can't say that, Fabray."

"Say what, Brittany?" Quinn mumbled into the table.

Brittany shook her head, not wanting to get into a fight right now. Especially not in a bar where they legally weren't allowed. Quinn knew what Brittany meant.

"Stop getting your panties in a twist, Brittany." Quinn smirked, finally looking up. "You can eat here too, so it's not like they'll come and arrest our asses. Besides, why are you so scared? Usually, you're the one forcing Puck and I into these places, what's so different about today?"

"Because usually Puck has a couple a friends who get the drinks for us, shit brain." The taller blonde hissed, glaring at Quinn.

Quinn glared back before resting her head on the table again.

A waitress came up to them and asked what they would like. Seeing as Quinn was playing dead, Brittany decided to speak up and told the young girl that they were still deciding.

"Quinn," Brittany muttered, when the waitress had gone. "Can we please get outta here and go find Puck and his friends before I die of boredom?"

"More like die of fear," Quinn snickered. Brittany glared. "Fine, yes, come on."

Quinn drove them to Puck's house, a couple of streets away from Brittany's street. He lived in a fairly nice house, all Jewish and shit, with religious stuff all over the walls.

They knocked on the door and before Brittany even had a chance to bring her hand back, it swung open and Puck's face was in full view.

He gave them a dorkish grin and went in to hug them.

"My girls!"

Quinn quickly sidestepped out of his arms, muttering a quick, "Puckerman," and moving in to the house, probably in search of Finn to inform him of her change of surname.

"What's crept up her ass?" Puck asked, slinging his arm casually around Brittany and leading her into the house.

"Fuck knows," Brittany replied, falling into Puck unintentionally. "Just get me a drink and today can be over and done with."

"What's been so shitty about it, dude?" Puck questioned as he reached for a beer in his kitchen. There were some people there who Brittany recognised from school. Most of them she had slept with. It made her need the drink even more.

"I had to follow Quinn around as she transferred from Fabray to Fabgay." Brittany took the beer from Puck and opened it with her teeth. "Ouch."

"Britt, you shoulda let me do that." Puck chastised tenderly, flicking Brittany's arm and sitting down on one of the kitchen stools.

Brittany straddled him and rested her head on his shoulder, sighing deeply.

Puck put his arms around her and squeezed lightly. "Do you wanna stay here tonight? I know you, like, haven't done that in a while, because you're always at Karofsky's but you know you're always welcome."

Brittany sighed even deeper at the thought of her fuck buddy. "I know," She said. "And thank you. But I think I'm just gonna get smashed and forget about everything. I'll walk home, it's cool. I can't keep running away from him."

"You'll have to climb the tree again," Puck laughed, stroking Brittany's hair. "Drunk,"

Brittany snickered. "It's more fun that way. Trust me."

"Whatever, Peirce. Just be careful, yeah?"

Brittany nodded into Puck's shoulder before jumping off him and downing the bottle of beer. He got her another one, shot her a warning look and led her out the back where the party was only just beginning.

She spotted Azimio and Karofsky and instantly knew what she needed to do tonight.

Making her way over to them, she downed her beer again and placed one hand over her chest, telling herself this feeling of worthlessness would go away in the next hour or so.

Only then could she face going home.

...

It was late. She knew it was. It was always late because she could never sleep. Never.

Savannah was curled up in her bed and it had taken all her willpower to move because the younger Latina was sleeping so peacefully in her arms.

So still and so balanced.

Santana watched as the little girl slept. Her chest rose and fell in an almost perfect beat. So innocent and so young. Everything still lay ahead of her.

It was almost beautiful if it wasn't so unbearable to think about.

The brunette sat on her windowsill, her tanned legs dangling down. It was a mild night. Sort of cold but sort of warm at the same time. It was also starry – something Santana had missed since leaving Phoenix. It was rare to have a completely clear night here in Lima. There were usually a lot of clouds and in some ways it made Santana sad but in others it made her happy. Happy that however much she wanted to forget about Phoenix and whatever bad things happened there, it was still the place where she grew up and found herself.

She glanced back at Savannah and sighed. The younger Lopez had asked to take Santana on a walk and the two of them had trudged out of the house together, Savannah leading the way. The whole time, she had been wiping at her face, desperately wishing they didn't pass anyone who might ask her what was wrong.

Savannah had led her to this tiny little brook where she and Papa had been the day before. It was nestled in the deepest corner of the Lima forest. Deeper than Santana had ever been in one. She'd got quite scared that Savannah really had no idea where she was heading but when they'd reached the gently trickling water, it was so peaceful that Santana had just burst into tears again.

Savannah had taken her by the hand, pulled her down onto a rock and climbed into her lap, wrapping her arms around her to hug her tightly.

"Please stop crying," The little girl had asked, breathing delicately into Santana's chest. "It makes me sad,"

Santana was sure her heart had broken even more then and suddenly terrified of losing the little girl, she'd grasped her tightly and kissed the top of her head, telling her she would.

And she had. They'd spent the rest of the afternoon splashing each other and trying to stay dry whilst running behind the small waterfall.

But now she couldn't sleep and all she had to think about was what had happened four years ago.

And she really did not want to think about that.

She knew she had to get out of the house. Otherwise she would just keep thinking and she really could not do that.

Kissing Savannah gently on her forehead, she picked up a pair of pyjama pants on the side chair and slipped them on. She then grabbed a black hoodie and left the room, writing a note to fix on her door, explaining where she was if any of her family were to wake up.

Once downstairs, she pulled on her pair of Ugg boots and walked outside. It was colder than she thought and she mentally scolded herself for not putting on sweatpants instead of flannel pyjamas.

She pulled the hood up over her long cascading dark hair and rearranged her glasses on her face. Thank god she didn't know anyone in this neighbourhood otherwise that would be an embarrassing encounter tomorrow.

Santana walked along the sidewalk not having any idea where she was headed. She kept walking, though. Walking, walking, walking, and never ever stopping. She wasn't even sure if she'd turned a corner or if she'd turned around. Nothing looked similar because she didn't know this place.

She walked past several shops, some full of clothes, others full of gifts and cards. She passed the pawn shop and smiled lightly to herself. She stopped to look in the window and noticed a few paintings.

_Papa would love these_, she thought.

She continued to walk on, shoving her fists deeper into her hoodie pockets. It wasn't a good sign that her hands were balled in fists. She knew that meant her anger hadn't subsided.

Even with baby Savannah's beautiful attempts.

_Ugh, stop this anger, Lopez. _

She shook her head and breathed in deeply. To her right was an alleyway.

An alleyway.

She stopped abruptly and whimpered.

Images of dark-eyed men, machetes, gloves and smacking fists invaded her memory, making her freeze on her spot and slam her eyes shut.

"_We've found you now, Lopez and there ain't no way you can run away this time."_

Santana squeezed her eyes shut even tighter and whispered the softest, "No."

"_No scurrying away to your little Asian nerd now that we've got you all cooped up."_

"No," She whispered again, feeling a sob threatening to erupt from her throat. She couldn't move from her spot however much she wanted to. She knew those men weren't in this alleyway because this was Lima. This was Ohio. This was thousands and thousands of miles away from those men and _that_ alleyway.

But it was still an alleyway.

"_Come here, you fucking dyke." _

She felt a hand grab her wrist and another grab her neck and slam her against a wall. Hard. Harder than anything she'd ever felt before. It made her back hurt. It made it throb.

"Tina," She whimpered, pulling her hood over her head and trying to move again.

_It's not really happening, Santana, get a grip girl. This is Lima. Lima, Ohio._

She braved to open her eyes but all she saw was a moving fist heading her way and into her face. She threw her arms around it to protect herself but nothing hit her.

Nothing hit her because it wasn't happening right now.

Her breathing was fast. She was panting and before she knew it, she was running. Running away from what she couldn't face. Running away from the mess she easily made and left so willingly.

Run, Santana. Run, run, run. Keep running and never look back.

Never look back.

Her feet were pounding so hard against the floor. She wasn't even sure if she was on the sidewalk or if she was thundering down the middle of the road.

The sound of a screeching car told her it was the latter and so she managed to leap onto the sidewalk, never ceasing her running.

Running, running, running.

She ran around a corner, sprinting down the road until she came to the park. She recognised it from the other day with Savannah and instantly, at the thought of the girl, her heart calmed and her feet stopped moving.

She promptly collapsed on the grass and she didn't even feel it when the grassy earth smacked into her head. It kind of felt good. Like that's what she needed. What she was waiting for.

What she was always waiting for.

She lay there for a while, allowing her breathing to return to normal before remembering Savannah. She had to get back to her. She was the only thing that would make her feel okay right now. The only thing that would calm her. The only thing that would not ask her any questions and would just hold her. Because she was an innocent child and she didn't know any better.

She hated questions.

Santana stood up, wiping at her pyjama pants and at her face. She pulled the hood even further onto her head and began walking back to the house. As she reached the sidewalk again, she heard a smack, followed by a strangled cry of pain.

_Shit._

She turned around and was met with the image of a tall blonde girl leaning head first into a tree, her long hair falling carelessly down the side of her face, clumpy and knotted. Her hands were curled into balls, one of them redder than the other. She was wearing pink hot pants and a plain white loose tank top, with a bikini top peaking out everywhere, underneath. She must be freezing.

Santana walked over to her and just as she was about to speak, the girl looked up and their eyes met.

She instantly knew who it was.

"You," The girl choked out, frowning. She looked so angry.

Before Santana could answer, her next door neighbour smacked her fist into the tree and let out another cry of pain.

Santana's eyes widened as she ran to the girl's side and pried her away from the tree, carefully.

"Woah, stop." She whispered, taking the blonde's hands in her own. They were freezing. "You'll hurt yourself."

The blonde seemed to snicker, a sly grin appearing on her face before it vanished and she went to smack the tree again.

Santana caught her hand just in time and brought it to her chest. "Seriously, stop. Let me look at it."

This girl was seriously going to hurt herself badly if she kept hitting the tree like this. It didn't help that she was standing outside in shorts and a shirt, probably freezing her ass off. Santana bit her lip and waited for the girl to calm down and let her warm her hand up.

The blonde glared at her, yanking her hand away and shoving it into the tree again.

"Shit, girl!" The Latina exclaimed, frowning disbelievingly at the blonde in front of her.

Her neighbour kept hitting the tree, over and over, her face getting angrier and angrier and it took all of Santana's might not to smack her and tell her to pull herself together. The girl was obviously drunk and had no control over what she was doing.

So Santana just decided to join her. She smacked the tree as hard as she could and soon realised her anger really had not been released before just now.

It actually felt really good to smack this tree.

So she did it again. And again. And again, until she could see her knuckles popping beads of blood in between the spaces in her fingers.

She smacked the tree again and before she could launch one more throw, the blonde next to her caught her arm and looked at her horrified.

"You're gonna hurt yourself!"

Santana smirked at the blonde and raised an eyebrow. The other girl seemed to understand and nodded curtly.

"Touché,"

Santana smiled lightly and allowed herself to breathe deeply. Her knuckles on her left hand were throbbing but it felt good to get the message across to this obviously drunk ass girl.

"Here," The blonde said, removing her tank top and wrapping it around Santana's hand.

"Wait, you're gonna freeze. My hand will be fine; I only live a couple a streets away." Santana refused, handing back the girl's top.

"So do I," The blonde reminded her, raising her own eyebrow.

Before Santana could respond, the taller girl suddenly bent over double and threw up all over the floor. Santana bent down with her, rubbing small circles on her back.

"Let me walk you home," She offered, handing back the tank top. "And put this back on, it's freezing."

"It's really not that cold." The blonde replied. "And please, I'm not going home."

"Okay, we won't go home." Santana reasoned. "But at least put this on."

The blonde complied and shoved the white tank top back on her slender body. Santana felt proud that she hadn't so much as glanced at the girl's body when she had it off.

"Where do you wanna go then?" Santana asked, folding her arms over her chest. Her knuckles were really starting to hurt right now.

The blonde cocked her head. "You're not going home?"

"I'm not leaving you out here on your own, all dizzy and drunk." Santana explained.

"Dizzy?"

"Sure," Santana giggled as the blonde tripped over her own feet as she tried to step towards her. "Dizzy,"

The blonde narrowed her eyes and then bit her lip. "Fuck,"

"You're angry," Santana stated, licking her lips. The blonde looked like she was about to kill her so she forcefully added, "And so am I."

The blonde stopped and stared at Santana. Her eyes narrowed again and she looked deep in thought. Santana suddenly remembered the brook from earlier that day and recalled how it helped calm her down.

"Wanna follow me?" She asked, holding out her bruised hand.

The blonde seemed to contemplate this idea for a while, gently rocking back and forth on her heels, stumbling every so often. She didn't even nod; she just took Santana's hand and eyed the damage the tree had done.

Santana pulled gently and said, "Come on, dizzy."

They walked silently through the streets of Lima, Brittany hobbling over her feet, Santana leading the way and keeping her somewhat upright.

She didn't know why she was doing this. She wasn't even sure if this was the right thing to do. The last time she had let someone get close, stuff...happened, and she couldn't do anything about it. She wasn't in any control of these kinds of situations and before, that would terrify her. It actually still _did_ terrify her. But it was a different type of fear now. Like she wasn't afraid of not knowing what was going to happen. Not like she used to be. These days, after what had happened, she felt like she was more scared of the fact she didn't care that she didn't know. Her recklessness and new found spontaneity made her a lot less angry and a lot less afraid.

She was always afraid. She could not recall a single moment in her childhood when she didn't feel like something or someone was going to hurt her in some way. Not until she was sixteen. Not until she finally realised some things.

Actually, a lot of things. And by then, it was too late.

With Santana, everything was always too late.

It wasn't her fault primarily. She knew that. She didn't hold back on things that had the potential for happiness on purpose. She loved happiness. She strived for it. And now she had it. She knew she had it.

Well. Sort of. She had it in some aspects of the word.

But not in the way she'd always unconsciously dreamed of. Perhaps she would never have happiness in that way. Perhaps it was only meant for those who snatched things up straight away. Those who took the plunge and didn't regret it. Those who went for it.

Those who never looked back.

That's what she was trying to do now. That's why she was walking down an unfamiliar street, in a neighbourhood she hardly knew, in the middle of the night, in the freezing cold and holding a _really, really, really pretty blonde girl's hand, _marching towards a brook where she really had no idea where she was going.

What the hell?

She pinched her lips together and crossed through another neighbourhood to reach the edge of the forest. She didn't want to turn around to look at the other girl's face because she was kind of afraid she'd snatch her hand away and accuse the Latina of leading her into the darkness.

Really though, she just wanted to lead her to some light.

The girl didn't make any indication that she was uncomfortable. She just continued to stumble behind Santana. She tripped a couple of times, causing her grip to tighten but other than that, the brunette could have been leading an elephant into the forest for all she knew.

She had to close her eyes to try and remember exactly where Savannah had taken her but she soon realised that the trees seemed to talk by themselves. They seemed to lead her to the brook and just like that, they were there, standing in front of the trickling water, the gentle pattering of the falling waterfall the only thing that broke the silence.

Santana stared at the brook in absolute awe. It looked so beautiful in the darkness, she found herself whispering Shakespeare.

"_Sweet are the uses of diversity, which like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head; and this our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything._"

She narrowed her eyes, caught in a moment of tranquillity and contentment. It felt different to earlier. When she had been with Savannah, she had been happy, of course, but she didn't feel peaceful. She didn't feel calm.

Here, right now, she felt all of those. She felt like she could sit here for hours and nothing could possibly go wrong.

It was something to do with the way the stars fell onto the rippling surface in elegant, yet almost cheeky bounces, twinkling under the watchful eyes of the trees that were most definitely whispering to one another. Their reflections blinked against the deep black shadows of the pool in front of Santana and she would not have been surprised if a wolf had howled or an owl had cooed.

She felt the blonde's presence come to settle beside her, to her left, and instantly she turned her head to look at her. She didn't expect the quizzical look plastered on the girl's face when she herself had felt an enormous amount of relief at this eventual arrival of calmness.

"Sobering up, dizzy?"

The blonde frowned at her. "So now you're speaking English again?"

It was Santana's turn to frown.

"Look, I don't know who you think you are, traipsing into my business like you have tonight, but if you really want to speak to me, try speaking like any normal bitch and not like an elf caught halfway between the North Pole and the Middle-Earth."

Santana stood there, utterly shocked at the girl's words. She inhaled sharply, holding her breath for several seconds before releasing it into the cool night air. Four years ago, Santana would have broken this bitch for letting such words escape her fool encrusted mouth but twenty-year-old Santana knows how to bite her tongue and silently be the bigger person, without begging for an explanation or some sort of justification towards her words.

This girl was so angry. So angry that Santana could literally see her old self in the blonde's crystal blue eyes.

They were the only crystal things that Santana had ever seen which were not crystal clear.

She eyed the blonde in record speed, starting from her feet, all the way to the tip of the girl's hair. She did this whilst biting her bottom lip and before anyone could say anything else, the Latina pulled off the black hoodie she was wearing, removed her _Black Tainted Garden _t-shirt, slipped off the pyjama pants and walked straight towards the group of rocks at the edge of the brook, directly beside the small waterfall.

With her back to the blonde, she gently removed her bra, baring her coffee coloured back to the biting night air. She shivered a little as a gentle gush of wind blew against her, cuasing her skin to erupt in a city of goose bumps. Just before she was about to jump in, she removed her panties and let them fall to her ankles. She stepped out of them and just as the blonde was about to speak, Santana jumped straight into the freezing cold brook.

She closed her eyes as the water crashed around her, wrapping her in a cocoon of ice and purity, clinging to every crack and every curve of her toned body. As she resurfaced, she smiled and lifted her hands to scrape back her soaking hair and felt a beautiful wave of adrenalin and revitalisation rumbling right through her head and down to her toes.

That certainly cleared it.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" The blonde girl yelled with her arms crossed over her chest.

Santana cocked her head, her smile fading just a little. This girl wasn't too nice when sobering up. Where was the girl who offered her tank top when she was wearing nothing else but a bikini?

"It's called skinny dipping." Santana smirked, biting her lip cheekily. She felt her eyes twinkling with mischief and for a second it made her wish that Tina had been there with her. The young Asian girl would have been in that brook with her in a millisecond.

Instead, she quickly glanced downwards and inhaled deeply. "Get in."

"Excuse me?"

"Get in," Santana repeated. She wasn't quite sure what exactly she was doing naked in this brook. It _was_ freezing. But if she was going to do this impulsive thing she was going to stick it out. "It'll sooth your knuckles."

The blonde's gaze shot through her as she narrowed her eyes and studied Santana. "Who even are you?"

Santana smirked. She had been waiting for this. "I'll tell you when you get in."

The other girl rolled her eyes and went to turn away, as if she was going back home but instead, turned around, ripped her tank top off, then her shorts and climbed the rock Santana had just jumped off of.

She suddenly looked as if her thoughts had caught up with her actions and she stuck the tip of her finger in her mouth, biting down nervously. Santana couldn't help but soften at the sight. It made her smile a little bit and the pit of her stomach felt all warm and bubbly. She looked down to hide her blushing face and bit her lip.

"Like what you see?" The blonde smirked, instantly removing her finger and placing her hands on her hips, strutting around the rock like she was modelling.

Four years ago, Santana would have denied her backwards leering and come out with some crazy bitchy comment about how the blonde looked more like a troll than a goddess, which totally wasn't true. But now? She smiled, cocked her head and muttered a small, "Maybe,"

The Latina giggled at the blonde's strutting and when she stopped and scowled at Santana's response, she simply giggled even more.

A silence fell between them, as Santana watched the blue-eyed beauty scowl down at her. The girl's face slowly evened out and the brunette offered her a lopsided smile.

"You coming in al-"

"What the fuck are we even do-"

They both stopped their words as they spoke over each other. They giggled bashfully.

"Just get in already, dizzy," Santana chuckled, splashing the ripples around her.

The blonde squirmed and stepped back. Santana stepped forward as quickly as she could in the water and grabbed the other girl's hand, looking as if she was going to pull her in.

She stopped after the gentlest of tugs and looked up into the blonde's eyes. Blue met brown and Santana had never felt this kind of tranquillity. How can you feel so calm when you're looking into the eyes of a storm? That's what it was like in this girl's eyes. A storm. It was cloudy and misty and they were screaming. Screaming so loud, Santana wondered how she'd ever found it possible to even hear the trees talking, let alone listen to them.

"Jump," She barely whispered, feeling the strain on her right arm as she held herself up onto the rocks. "I won't let go,"

The blonde narrowed her eyes at Santana and frowned. They stared at each other for several seconds, studying each other's eyes. The brunette wondered what the other girl was thinking about her own mocha eyes. Did they have a storm in them? Were they filled with mist and darkness and anger just like hers were? What words were they screaming, if they were even screaming at all?

"Promise?" The blonde suddenly whispered, her breath coming in short, quick pants.

Santana's eyes widened in concern before she nodded her head tightly. "Promise," She whispered back, tightening her grip on the blonde's hand and gently pulling backwards. She bit her lip, unsure what the girl was going to do next. Would she murder Santana when she felt how cold the water was? She certainly seemed capable of it.

But before Santana could contemplate it further, the blonde stood up a little straighter and jumped straight beside the Latina. Water droplets flew everywhere, most of them falling on Santana and cascading down her face, her arms and her chest.

When the blonde resurfaced, she gasped so sharply, Santana thought she might have slit her throat.

"Alright?" She asked, somewhat nervous.

However, when she saw the bright smile that adorned the other girl's face, her own immediately lit up and they both laughed together. They laughed for a while, both of them wiping away the droplets of water and scraping their hair back off their faces.

"Here, you missed a bit," The blonde said, leaning towards Santana and catching a falling droplet off her nose. "There," She smiled.

Santana frowned, shaking her head a little. This girl was so unpredictable.

The blonde seemed to notice and instantly retracted her hand, huffing and turning away. Santana felt her heart drop.

"Thank you," She told the girl, leaning back and floating. When the girl turned back around, she looked like she was having an internal conflict. Santana couldn't work out whether she was incredibly mad or incredibly overwhelmed.

Maybe a bit of both.

"You look like a panda," Santana giggled, referring to the blonde's leaking mascara. "A dizzy panda,"

"Hey, would you stop with the dizzy thing?" The blonde countered, lightly splashing Santana with the water. "I'm not drunk anymore."

This was useful information, Santana thought, laughing internally. She bit her lip and grinned.

"And why do you always smile like that? It's really creepy."

Santana just chuckled and turned her head away, swimming towards the waterfall.

"Would you like me to call you Creepy Smiles from now on, or something?" The blonde shouted after her, her voice echoing through the darkness of the forest.

Santana didn't turn around but shouted back, "I thought you wanted to know who I was?" She reached the edge of the waterfall and turned to face the blonde. "At least that's why I thought you jumped in."

The girl looked back at the Latina and pinched her lips together. "Who are you?"

"I'm Santana," The brunette answered, keeping a straight face.

"Santana," The blonde repeated to herself, looking down at her reflection in the water. "That's a pretty name."

"Really?" Santana joked, running her tongue along her teeth and then biting down on it. The other girl looked up. "Because I kinda prefer Creepy Smiles."

The blonde emitted a genuine giggle and looked down again. When she looked up, Santana bit her lip and grinned, causing the blonde to slam her palms into her eyes and beg her to stop.

Giggling, of course.

"I'll stop if you tell me who you are." Santana lifted her chin and smirked.

"Okay," The blonde nodded her head, swimming towards Santana. "My name is Brittany,"

"Again, I prefer dizzy."

Brittany pinched her lips together and chuckled. "You like nicknames, huh?"

Santana cocked her head and shrugged indifferently. "Only for people whose names really don't suit them."

Brittany seemed to take offense of this and stopped swimming to scowl at Santana. "What the fuck is wrong with Brittany?"

Santana narrowed her eyes worriedly at Brittany. "The 'B' is quite harsh and you've got a soft face."

"I have totally _not _got a soft face, I have a bitch face, so actually, the 'B' fits perfectly well. And you don't even know a fuck about me, so you really can't comment." Brittany huffed and wrapped her arms around herself.

"You're right, I don't." Santana began, making sure to catch Brittany's blue eyes. She sighed and bit her lip. Not leaving the blonde's eyes, she slowly walked back under the gently trickling waterfall, blinking a little when the water softly hit her face, until she was standing directly behind it. "Now I think you're a bitch."

She heard Brittany huff and swim towards the waterfall. "What the fuck, Santana? You can't just change your mind like that. And will you come out from behind the fucking waterfall? It's like you can't even say that to my face."

Santana reached her head forward again, right through the falling water and caught Brittany's eyes, which seemed barely a metre away. Her breath hitched and she fought the urge to rub her dripping eyes with her hands. The water fell directly onto the back of her neck and she sighed. "That's because it was a lie."

The blonde frowned.

Santana emerged fully again and smiled gently. "I don't see a bitch when I look at you, Brittany. '_In thy face I see honour, truth and loyalty'. _Because seriously? If you truly were a bitch, you would never have followed a stranger through a dark forest, let alone skinny dip with them." The Latina giggled a little and looked down at Brittany's chest. "Even if one isn't actually naked when doing so."

Brittany looked stunned. But not for long. She instantly drew her head back and inhaled sharply. "Why did you speak like that earlier?"

"Like what?"

"Like a fucking freak?" The blonde growled out, losing patience. "You know, all that 'trees have tongues' shit."

Santana giggled because Brittany had remembered what she said. "It was Shakespeare."

Brittany's brow flew up. "Shakespeare?"

"Yeah,"

Brittany was silent whilst she stared at Santana, her eyes widening every second. "Shakespeare?" She repeated.

"Yes," Santana said again, scratching her upper lip.

Brittany narrowed her eyes and looked away a little. "Huh,"

Santana frowned this time. Her arms started to shiver and she knew she should head home soon. She wrapped her arms around her naked chest and dipped lower into the water. It was still falling on her neck but she couldn't move forwards because Brittany was there.

"Are you cold?"

Santana looked up at the sound of the change of tone. "A little,"

"Let me get your clothes." Brittany offered, swimming to the shore and walking out hastily. Santana watched as she collected the brunette's clothes and brought them to the edge of the water. The Latina could not get her head around how erratic Brittany was. One minute, she looked like she could murder a murderer himself and then the next, like she could sacrifice herself for the sake of a baby ant.

She was so random.

Santana finally moved through the water, feeling her legs growing stiffer with every step. When she reached the sand, Brittany held out her hands and guided Santana to another rock so she could get dressed.

If the brunette had not been so cold, she would have taken the time to feel embarrassed at her incredible lack of clothing but it didn't seem to bother Brittany too much. The girl wasn't even looking at her. By now, she'd turned away and was walking towards her own clothes.

They dressed in silence, the only noise surrounding them being the odd scratch of a squirrel scampering in the trees for nuts. Santana couldn't hear the trees talking anymore.

She didn't know why.

She also didn't know why Brittany had suddenly fallen nice once Santana mentioned Shakespeare. She definitely did not seem like the kind of girl to enjoy the writer's words so it was impossible that the blonde was a fellow worshipper. But there was something in the way the storm in her eyes had calmed at the mention of his name. And Santana really wanted to find out why. Why that had happened. Why had the storm settled at the mention of such a simple thing?

"Santana?" Came Brittany's unusually soft voice from across the shore.

The brunette turned around, slipping her Ugg boots on and walking over. She could see the goose bumps on Brittany's skin and remembered that she had no sweater to warm her up.

"Brittany, have my hoodie." She offered, handing it over to the blonde. "I'm not wearing a cold, wet bikini."

The blonde stared at her for a second before smiling slightly and taking the hoodie from Santana's hand. She slipped it on and then her flip flops before biting her lip and walking forwards.

Santana followed, walking beside her in silence.

Brittany broke it. "What I was going to ask just now was if you knew a lot of Shakespeare?"

Santana smiled to herself, looking at her feet as she walked. "Yes."

"Really?"

Santana turned to look at the blonde and exhaled happily at her smiling expression. She nodded.

"I know nothing of his," Brittany admitted, swinging her arms around. "I wish I did," She added quietly.

The brunette bit her lip. "Do you like to read?"

Brittany snorted. Apparently, that answered Santana's question. So she pressed again.

"I mean, did you read when you were little? Like, I don't know... bed time stories from your parents, or siblings or whatever?"

The storm was back in Brittany's eyes and this time, Santana didn't even need to look into them to know.

"I never used to like it. In fact I hated bed time stories." Santana softly added, narrowing her eyes empathetically at Brittany.

The blonde's shoulders raised a little. They walked on in silence.

Santana thought back to when her Mama and Papa tried reading her bed time stories and how she would resist them so much because all she really wanted was Tina to read to her. Tina made up her stories, always making Santana the poorly princess who needed saving by her, the mighty prince. The Latina had adored these stories. They would lay on their beds for hours, long after they were meant to be asleep, nestled together under the covers, whispering stories of love and adventure, giggling every time they found something funny.

They giggled a lot, her and Tina.

She never used to giggle when Mama or Papa read her a story. If they read her a story now, she's pretty sure she would enjoy it. But back then, when she was so angry and so mad at the world, she hated it.

"'The lady doth protest too much', my Mama used to say," Santana whispered out loud, smiling to herself as she pictured Eva at her childhood bedside, swatting her with a half read book.

"Jesus," Brittany muttered, looking up at Santana. "Have you read, like, every single play of his?"

Santana blushed. "Maybe,"

She felt Brittany smirk and giggle at her. "Cute,"

This made the brunette frown and look up at Brittany. She hadn't been called cute since she was sixteen.

And definitely not by a girl.

They reached their neighbourhood and walked towards their houses. They stopped just outside and looked at one another. Neither knew what to say, so the silence settled around Santana and she breathed in contently. She didn't mind the silence.

"I'm, um..." Brittany began, indicating the tree in between their houses. "I'm gonna climb the tree."

Santana raised her eyebrows, surprised. "Really?"

"I always do." Brittany replied, looking far more serious than Santana thought she needed to be.

"Well, goodnight dizzy." Santana said, nodding her head and smiling. "I'm sorry that you're home."

Brittany shrugged indifferently. "Had to come eventually."

Santana smirked. "Be safe climbing that tree. I'll check up on you through my window."

The blonde's eyes narrowed and she shook her head. "Amateur."

As Santana watched her walk away, she couldn't help but think that this girl, Brittany, was quite possibly the most random, angry, erratic yet _beautiful_ person she had ever met.

Incredibly mad, yet really somewhat laid back.

Engulfed in darkness, yet the brightest sun in the sky.

Deeply lost and misunderstood, yet the path to Santana's long lost peacefulness.

She was an anomaly. She didn't make sense, yet she made total utter sense all at the same time. And she was lost. So lost that Santana wasn't quite sure how she had ever managed to stop the girl from punching the tree.

So lost that she simply wanted to follow her.

Follow her through the darkness. Follow her through the fog. Follow her through the storm.

Follow her until they reached the place where the earth meets the sky.

Follow her to the Savannah.

**Please review if you have the time. I'd appreciate knowing where you want this story to go and what you are enjoying or not enjoying about it. Also, please tell me what you think about the length of the chapters. Sometimes I think they can be too long but I also hate really short chapters, unless they are letters of course! Tell me what you think and I'll see you next time! Poppy x**


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